


1994 (A Tate Langdon Fanfiction)

by alwayslimerent



Category: American Horror Story, Evan Peters - Fandom, Tate Langdon - Fandom
Genre: AHS, Evan Peters - Freeform, F/M, Fanfiction, tate langdon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayslimerent/pseuds/alwayslimerent
Summary: All it took for Charlotte were the words "I'm here. I'll never let anything or anyone hurt you." Just the thought of him had terrified her, but why was he so intriguing?





	1. Prologue

I like to think that I was put on this planet for a reason. That everybody was. I like to look at all the cars that pass mine wherever I go and acknowledge that every car that passes mine has a story. Some are driving to a restaurant to meet their blind date, some are coming to pick up their kids from school, or some are still buying flowers for their loved ones. (If they still do that now.) 

But, I also like to acknowledge the fact that life isn't daisies and dandelions. It's not always having opportunities, like a spoiled girl looking out into the city and always wanting more than what she has right in front of her. I like to think about death sometimes. Sometimes I think it would be nice. Just to channel myself out for a while. But, I also know that death is forever. People who commit suicide, they don't even make the second thought that maybe it'll get better someday, and that their problems are only temporary. They think death is as temporary as their problems. Death isn't temporary.

That's something I learned too soon.


	2. Chapter 1

My new room wasn't as dull as I expected it to be. It had dark blue paint, and there were still old CDs on the shelves. The CDs on the shelves reminded me of Bryce. Bryce always illegally burned CDs, and just shoved them on his shelves. His room was always open, with white walls, a window that was always open with sunlight shining through, and he would always be softly strumming his guitar. 

 

But, sometimes his guitar would get too loud. His ego would get big. We were something beautiful back in Pennsylvania. We would play records and talk endlessly about music. He would play his guitar while I would lay on his bed, and stare at his blank white ceiling. We would always talk about wanting to put posters there or even paint something there. Last Christmas, he put blue fairy lights all around his room. Then, I guess the lights got to him because he became blue. It rubbed off on me with his kiss. Then, he got scared and ran away. Everybody gets scared of me once I'm attached. I think now, I get scared of myself when I get attached. After that winter, things changed. He cut all his beautiful hair off, wore a different color hoodie, and forgot all about me. The Bryce I loved...I like to think he died. He's somewhere where he can be accepted. Now, there's this arrogant asshole named Bryce who thinks he's the shit because everyone knows his name now...I don't know him. I never spoke to him. 

I heard my dad put his bottles in the kitchen cabinet as I looked in the mirror I slanted against my wall for now. My dark red hair was pulled back into a bun. There were dark circles under my eyes. My hands were cold. My dad's alcohol was what he called his "Happy Juice". Although, it wasn't happy juice. It made him forget about how he was about to lose his job back in Pennsylvania. Forget about how his best friend committed suicide. Forget about me, my mom, everything. His brain was a tunnel that just led to a huge bottle of vodka. I would always lock myself in my room. Sometimes, my parents would even forget that I had to eat dinner. Or get up for school. It's like I was a ghost. 

Sometimes, I wished I wasn't even here. My parents wouldn't notice. No one would. There was just a dark man following me everywhere I went, telling me to tie the noose, telling me where my dad's gun was and where his bullets were. Telling me that if I chugged down Dad's vodka, he would be more concerned with the fact that his alcohol is gone, and not his daughter. The dark man used to scare me, but now he just makes me sad, and miserable. I'd do anything to not have to listen to him. There's just too much turmoil here, in this mind, in this heart. I'd do anything to make it go away. 

But, that's tumblr-girl-depression romantic bullshit. Depression isn't Lana Del Rey and black and white gifs of girls with mascara smears on their lifeless cheeks and plenty of cigarettes to smoke. It's feeling so hopeless that you don't have the energy to even tell people. They don't care anyways. So, why even bother?

Today was my first day at my new school. You'd think that it's just a girl with eyeliner and an old sweater with a cliche mystery journal wandering timidly with everyone looking at her. Nope. That's more tumblr-girl cliche bullshit. I had cigarettes and food being thrown at me, and I got beat up in a restroom stall. I had a boy call me a slut and got wolf whistled in class. No teacher bothered to ask me if I was okay. Not even the walls listened to my cries. 

I thought about it really long and hard, as the sun set in my window. The summer skies were growing dark. The leaves were still going to change without me. The sun was still going to come up without me. The snow will still fall down in the East without me. My dad will still drink. My mom will still believe she knows politics. And my school will not treat me any differently. It's just one less life on this planet. 

I didn't think this new chapter was left to have me in it. I thought that maybe it was time for me to leave. Death sounded nice. Just for a little while. 

Then, I realized. Death is forever. Once you hold death's hand, it won't let go.


	3. Chapter 2

I walked through the front door once I got home from school. My parents weren't home yet, nor had I even expected them to be until hours later. My mom was out shopping for herself, probably, and my dad was off drinking in a bar trying to forget about us. It was the perfect time. I could quietly leave. 

I got my razors out of my makeup bag, and went to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, sliding that sharp razor across my wrist, just made me forget about everything for a while. As I stared at the blood dripping down my wrist, suddenly, a loud thud was shaking my door. It's like somebody was throwing their body at my door repeatedly. It scared the living shit out of me, I dropped my razor in my sink, with blood running down my arm. I quickly got a handful of tissues and held them to my wrist as I quickly tried to unlock and open the door. Once I opened the door, no one was there. 

"Please, just leave me alone," I started crying. "I don't want to be here." I walked to my bedroom, tissues still being pressed against my arm.

"Don't be stupid. You just moved here." I heard the low deep voice of a young man, it was almost a whisper. 

"Get out of my house!" I screamed. This man's voice terrified me. 

"Would you quit the screaming? Use your indoor voice." He walked out from behind me. He was tall, young, wore two worn out sweaters on top of each other, and the sleeves went all the way up to his fingers. His jeans were torn up, and his converse looked like he walked miles and miles in them. Through mud, forests, cities, everywhere. 

"Who the hell are you? And why are you in my house? Do you know my parents?" I tried pulling down my sleeve over the tissue-covered cuts. 

"Right, right. I'm Tate. I live around here. Who the hell are you?" He was going through all my records. 

"Charlotte. What are you doing?" I walked towards him, before he stopped and picked up my Nirvana "Bleach" album. 

"I can tell we're going to get along. And to answer some of your previous questions, no I don't know your parents. I just drop by here whenever I feel like it." He looked at me after he put the record on. "It can get boring around here, sometimes."

"I can understand that. I can't get bored or else I get..." I looked him in the eyes. They were a dark brown. It was like I was looking into some darkness. It intimidated me, but I still wanted to keep looking at him. "...sad."

"I get really sad, too. That's why I can't listen to those thoughts or else bad things happen." He gently grabbed my wrist and took off the tissues. His hands were soft, but cold. "Today?"

"Yeah...Um.." God, I felt my heart pounding. Nobody has ever saw my cuts before. I pulled my sleeve down. 

He pulled up his sleeve and showed my a slight trace of a scar on his wrist. "My dad left. I was only ten."

"My first one was when my dad started drinking. I was twelve."

"Man, that sucks ass. Your dad's a drunk?" He picked up my book, "The Stranger" by Albert Camus. He then threw it across the room. "Why do you read that shit? It's just a man who thinks life is meaningless. He kills a guy on the beach for no reason. He's a pain in the ass."

"It isn't just 'life is meaningless'. It's called existentialism. And it's where life has no meaning, but whatever you do, there are consequences. And spoiler alert: at the end, he feels happy."

"Happy-shmappy. That's an understatement of life. It's a mediocre word. Where's the emotion? It's just dead." He sat on the floor and crossed his legs. 

"So, why are you really here?" I sat down with him. 

"I saw you walk in the door. You looked lonely and I wanted to meet you." He shrugged his shoulders like it wasn't a big deal. He looked down and I saw him play with the snagged threads of his old sweater. He was getting more and more attractive by the second. His curly blonde hair framed his face perfectly. 

"I guess you can stay here and hang out until my parents come home."

He looked up at me and smiled. God, his smile was so beautiful. He took my hand and brushed his fingers over my scars gently. We both looked at each other. His eyes were so dark. Full of mystery. 

"I'd love that." He whispered. He got up, with a focused and such a serious look on his face. He then went in the hallway. 

I loved the touch of his hands. His smile. His hair. His back when he walked out the door. I walked out into the hallway and he was nowhere to be found. 

"Tate?" I called out quietly. His name fell off my lips so perfectly. 

It was dead silence. I wanted him to come back. I didn't want him to leave. 

I then grew terrified, as I was becoming attached to him like a patch on a letter jacket.

I had to run away.


	4. Chapter 3

This house made me terrified. It was dark, and always cold. I was scared to go downstairs a lot unless my mother was there, or at least somebody. Anybody but Tate. He kept me on the edge, on my toes too much. Everytime I looked into his eyes, it's like they sucked in your soul and ate it alive, while it felt like you were running through a field of daisies, or some euphoric shit like that. He just seemed too dangerous for me. That's why I had to stay away from him at all costs. Because I was attracted to things that were dangerous. Like donuts. Frosted, pretty, but bad for me. Boys, in a way, at least the ones I always became attracted to, were like that. 

He just had this 90's vibe about him. He didn't give one single shit about anything. He was sweet, endearing, charming, calm. Everything I could ask for. He had such an innocent charisma about him when he smiled. But I knew the second I looked into his eyes, that there was something dark inside of him. He just threw it under the rug, masked it with flowers and a Nirvana album. His worn up converse, his layers of oversized sweaters, his messy blonde hair, torn up jeans, dark circles around his dark eyes that makes him look like he hasn't slept in days, tall, handsome, he had a weird resemblance of Kurt Cobain. It was weird how much he loved Kurt Cobain, considering he had the style of him. 

I heard my mom unloading the groceries downstairs, so I decided to walk downstairs and help her. I quickly padded my feet down the two flights of stairs, to see her surrounded by bags from stores from the mall. 

"Hey...Mom. Where were you?" Her tired lifeless eyes were pretending to be happy. Her layers of jewelry were covering up her heartbreak and her hardened arteries from the alcohol she developed from her husband. Sometimes he would completely ignore her. It was like he married alcohol now, and not an actual woman capable of having mutual feelings. She was taking off her shoes, looking exhausted.

"Hey, sweetie. Look at what all I bought today! New shoes, clothes, I even went out for some coffee. The mall was a madhouse, you wouldn't believe the amount of people trying to hand out free samples to me-"

"That's nice. What's for dinner?" 

"I don't really know, sweetie. I don't feel like cooking. Maybe we can order takeout, or just snack on something..." She took her bags and started to go upstairs. 

"I would have bought you something, sweetie, but you didn't want to go." She walked to her room and put her bags down on the bed.

"I don't like the mall...too many...people."

"I guess. You don't like going anywhere. Just tell me if you want some Chinese or pizza or I can even order some Italian if that's what you want." She smiled while taking out clothes from all her shopping bags.

"I guess, pizza is fine." I walked back into my room, frowning, feeling sluggish.

"Chicken with tomatoes, banana peppers, and parmesan?" I could hear her putting the clothes on the hangers.

"Yeah. Thanks." I looked back and smiled.

"With garlic crust?" 

"Yes. Thank you." I closed my door. 

"I love pizza." I heard a dark voice say. Tate.

"Jesus, Christ! You can't scare me like that, Tate!" I screamed.

"Sorry! Christ. What did I say about indoor voices? Jesus." He was taking books off of my bookshelf. "So you have 'As You Like It', but not 'Macbeth'? 'Hamlet'? 'Romeo and Juliet', for Christ's sake?" He shook his head and flung my "As You Like It" book off the shelf.

"I like that book. 'Romeo and Juliet' is too overrated. They were stupid. All of them were. The only sane one was Rosaline." I sat on my bed, gracing my fingers over the torn up cover.

Tate immediately turned around and quickly paced towards me. "They aren't stupid. Once you're in love, you would do anything to be with them."

I had no choice but to just stare into his eyes. I felt safe danger. 

He just looked back at me. His lips looked delicate. His voice was deep. Soft. I just had this feeling that I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to stay. With me. I wanted him close. 

"Anything." He emphasized. I just nodded while still looking at him. 

Jesus Christ. What the actual hell was I thinking? I was supposed to be running from Tate. Not wanting to kiss him and just to lay with him and find out his secrets and just talk all night while eating pizza. I got up from my bed, and despite my fear, I went downstairs. I had to get away from him. My father wasn't even home yet, my mother was upstairs. I looked around, at all the dark wood furniture and the only light coming from the windows. 

"You can't run away from me." I heard Tate say behind me. It startled me, so I turned around and pushed him.  
"Will you cut that out?"  
"Why? You're jumpy. It's funny." His lips curled into a smile so innocent.   
"No it's not. I just need some time..."  
"Time...for what?" His smile faded. He walked closer towards me, as I backed away, pulling my sleeves down.  
"I just need to think." I ran into the sink. "Shit," I mumbled under my breath.   
"Think about what?" His eyebrows furrowed and he gently grabbed my wrist, pulling the sleeve up and tracing the scar with his finger. 

"You." I whispered while looking into his eyes. Tears formed, as I was thinking about Bryce, my parents, every couple I've ever seen. It was just going to end up like those. And I was just going to be another heartbroken girl, full of sorrow and regret. 

"Well, why, Charlotte?" He said in the most sweetest voice. Shit, I had to stop.  
"Because...shit this is embarrassing. You're just charming and attractive and there's just something about you that screams danger,...Tate, I really like you. Even though we barely know each other."

"It doesn't have to be that way." His face got closer to mine. "And you shouldn't be scared of me. I'm not leaving here. And this is really freaking cliche since we just met."

"I know, I've just been through too much to get my heart broken again. I'm sorry." I looked down, kind of letting my mind speak for me without a filter. 

"Let's just say this will be different." He kissed my cheek and I could feel his arms around me. God, did it feel nice. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He said softly. "Or whenever you need me. Just think of me and I'll be there." He kissed my forehead. 

"Okay." I subtly smiled.   
He smiled and let go of my hand, and then he walked out of the door. 

There was no running now. There was no point. Every road I was running down led me to Tate.


	5. Chapter 4

Tate really made me think that night. He left me with a feeling of a shield around me. Like I was safe. Like nothing could hurt me. This room was dark once you turned all the lights out. It wasn't haunting like the rest of the house, though. My room was the only room I felt safe in. Or, maybe it was just the feeling Tate was so far, yet so near. It's like I could feel him watching over me. I looked outside my window, and it was like you could see every single star in the sky. The forest and all of its trees. It was almost enchanting. It was a night newlyweds would happily have a coupling under. The skies were so clear you could see the lilac and indigo tints in the clouds. You could see the clouds rolling about. You could almost see the stars twinkling. It was too beautiful that night, that I almost didn't want to go to sleep. I almost forgot about everything. My mother and her money-spending, my father and his drinking bottle after bottle, and Bryce with his inability to make up his mind when it comes to girls. 

I heard a soft knocking on the door. I figured it was just my dad, drunk, and finally home. I didn't want to get up. I wanted to keep looking out the window to see the beautiful sky. I almost didn't need a light in my room due to the moonlight and the stars being so bright. If you dropped a quarter in the grass under this moonlight, I bet you would find it without a flashlight. 

I put a pair of sweatpants on and a sweater (I usually slept in my underwear and a tank top - I've always had problems with my body temperature rising like crazy at night. I was the type of person who slept with the minimum amount of clothes, two heavy blankets and two pillows, and the fan on high. It was a weird routine, but I couldn't sleep unless it was that way.) before I opened the door. I opened it - and it was Tate. The moonlight shined on his messy blonde hair, and his eyes were almost opaque. He looked even more beautiful than before. 

"Hey." He said in a soft, comforting voice. 

"Oh, hi. I thought it was going to be my dad." I let him in and he immediately hugged me tightly. It felt so nice. You would expect him to smell like cigarette smoke, or mint, or some strong-ass cologne, but he didn't have a strong smell. It smelled simply like his house. You know how you could go to someone's house, then go home and your clothes smell like that person's house? That was what Tate smelled like. Tate smelled like Tate. No further explanation. He did smell like books, though. That was the only specific smell I identified when I hugged him. 

"Why?" He asked, while he was running his fingers gently through my auburn hair. 

"He's usually home late. Alcoholics, you know?" I looked down at his worn out converse.

Tate closed the door quietly and took my hand and we both sat on the floor. He turned on a small light that was right by the bookshelf that was here when I moved in. 

"What did you do that for? It was beautiful outside." I looked at him as he sat back down.

"I needed light." He looked right in my eyes with a small smile. "So I could see you."

"So, why did you come here so late? I was just about to go to bed." I pulled my sweater off. Tate knew I had rows and rows of scars, so it's not like I was hiding anything. And I was getting hot. I really wished I would have changed into a pair of sleep shorts or something before Tate got here. Now, I was stuck in these hot-ass pants. It's like they were binding my skin. And they were black. They were absorbing every particle of heat in the house and making the rest of the house cold, I thought. 

"I can leave, if you want. You need some sleep." He put his arm around my shoulders and smiled as he looked at me. His face was so close to mine. He was so close to me. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I looked back at him and I noticed my lungs feeling tight. 

"No, stay here. It's nice when you're here. I like it when you're around." I said softly. It was just so pleasant. Us speaking softly. No noise outside. Just a quiet world, everyone else asleep, except for us. 

"I love the nighttime. It's so quiet, dark. It's like everybody else is away for a while. It gives me time to think. To have some peace. I can finally imagine without feeling crazy." I said, while looking out the window that was above my bed. 

"I like the nighttime too. I guess people like us were just made for the nighttime. The crazies come out at night. They rapidly paint portraits, they write music, they write stories, poetry, or they stare out the window like us, and just think. The night doesn't judge you for creativity. It's when the domineering sun finally leaves you for a break. The sun, it's so overwhelming with light, it's just this huge burning ball of gas, just this huge fiery star. It's still there even if you hide under blankets of clouds on a rainy day. No matter how many miles you drive, it still follows you everywhere you go, watching your every move. The moon, you can clearly look at it without going blind. You can take a good look at the sky without hurting your eyes. The moon has a side we will never know. It just phases. Everything is just better at nighttime, you know? You just see things clearer." Tate got lost in his words of the nighttime as he stared out the window, as I was doing too. He looked at me, and then got up, holding his hand out for me to get up too. 

We both sat on the bed, with our legs crossed. Tate was always messing with the snags of his jeans or his sweater sleeves. They always had holes in them. 

"So, your dad's an alcoholic?" He asked.

"Yep. He started after his best friend committed suicide. No one knows why he did it. He completely forgot my mother's birthday this year. So, she's thinking about leaving him. He basically is choosing his 'Happy Juice' over his family."

Tate looked up at me, disgusted. "That's devastating. You should never forget things like that."

"Right? Sometimes he would be gone for days. My mom's insisting that he's cheating on her, but I think he's too drunk to even think about doing that. Now, my mom is dabbling with it, I honestly think they wouldn't care if I started, either." I looked down at my scars.

"No." He grabbed my wrist. His thumb landed right over my scar. His hands always landed right on my scars. "Don't lose yourself on something that's temporary."

I couldn't really tell what he meant by that, but I knew it was something I was going to think about endlessly before I went to sleep. To try to figure out what he meant. 

"My mom does so much 'shop-therapy' now, that we're going broke. And my first week of school was terrible. I don't even want to go back. Nobody's there but rich assholes who can't get their head out of their wallets." I walked around my room. My feet were falling asleep. As I was walking, I tried so hard to ignore the pins and needles in my feet as I was pacing the colorful rug on the dark wood floor. 

"Westfield?" Tate asked as he turned around to face me. After a few seconds, he started to lay on his side, resting his head on his hand, looking up at me. It was so hard to look at him for more than a second, because if I did, I would be looking at a work of art forever. 

"Yep. You go there, too?" I stopped and looked at him. 

"Not anymore." He looked at me. "Got kicked out." His voice was a whisper. His eyes got wide once he said "kicked out". 

"What did you even do?" I asked.

"Let's just say it's a long story. Let's save that one for later." He said quietly. It grew into a silence. But, it wasn't awkward. Just two people, in the long hours of the night. The earth felt still. I felt we were the only two awake right now as far as you could see in the city. "Charlotte, I need to tell you something." He broke the silence, and grabbed my hand so I was sitting on the bed, facing opposite of him again. My hand was still in his. His thumb kept gracing over my hand. It was calming. 

"What is it?" I asked, looking into his eyes.

"I've been in love before. I know just by looking at you that you've had your heart broken before." I did. "And it twisted your heart in ways you didn't know your heart could." Yep, he did. He messed with my feelings because he was unsure of his own. "Well, I've been heartbroken too. I was in love too. That love changed me. It was the only light I've ever known. It was like I found a flower in my gun. But that love died, and she grew cold. Distant. And I never thought I would get over her. I thought she was my first and only love. But, by looking at you, I know you're gonna try to run away. I know you have been trying to. Just, please, don't, Charlotte. Because what I feel right now, I can't stop feeling. There's no turning back." He was right about that too. I wasn't necessarily scared of Tate, I was scared of falling for Tate. I was scared of being heartbroken. "So, I don't know what you feel, but I'm feeling something I never thought I would feel again." I was feeling the same thing. "I like you so much, Charlotte." His voice grew into a soft, but deep whisper. "There's just something so different about you. Something I can't figure out. You're so different, and I love that." He smiled widely. Jesus, that smile. It made me let go, and start falling.

"I like you too, Tate." I looked at him, my face growing into a smile. "A lot. I can't get you out of my head. You just have this thing about you. This...mystery. I'm constantly on the edge. I was scared of it, but..." I had to close my eyes to say it. "I'm not anymore." And before I knew it, his lips were pressed against mine. His arms were around my waist. Through my hair. I was letting go. I could feel my heart beating loud for the first time in so long. 

He decided to sleep with me that night. Nothing happened, just his arms were softly wrapped around mine, pressing my back against his chest. He kissed the back of my neck before I drifted off to sleep. He was softly speaking right in my ear about all the famous high school dropouts. Telling me things about Kurt Cobain that I already knew, but I was too tired to tell him that. His voice was so calm and soothing it helped me fall asleep anyway. 

Falling for Tate was like a rabbit hole. It was chaotic, and once you reached the bottom, you entered a completely different world. Not only was it strange and beautifully illogical and genius and a paradise for the insane, but you weren't sure how to get out. You weren't sure if you wanted to, either. 

I know I didn't.


	6. Chapter 5

At Westfield High School, Tate apparently had a questionable reputation. Whenever I spoke of him to the very few friends I had, the room would suddenly grow into almost a complete silence. Even teachers never wanted to speak about them. I would just simply ask a teacher if he's had Tate as a student or if he's simply heard of him in the halls. Not that I believe Tate really contributed in school or anything, he was against that. He believed high school was just a flash of lightning in your timeline. He believed that there was more to life than just those four years. 

I was getting my English book out of my locker when I felt someone's backpack hit my back. It was so heavy, it shoved me to where I shut my locker closed. 

"Hey, sorry about that." A guy came hurrying back and helped me pick up my books. "These halls are crowded."

"Got that right. People don't know how to move, almost." I was in such a pissy mood today, which isn't that different from everyday. I looked up and this guy was actually quite tall to be in high school. He had his dark brown hair in his face, you could barely see his eyes. He had a black hoodie on, with a grey t-shirt, and some ripped jeans and worn out converse. I guess the worn-out look is a trend here? 

"Not almost, they really don't. I'm Victor. You probably have seen me millions of times but just now notice me because I'm an invisible piece of shit. What class are you going to next?" Victor was very impulsive, I could already sense. He was a very in-your-face kind of guy, and I liked that. It reminded me of Tate. 

"Study Hall. It's the only time I can get my homework done." We started walking together in the hall.

"Hey, I'm going there too! We should go to the library. Aren't you the new student? Along with the 20-something other new students?" I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. Or if he was serious. If he was trying to be funny, I guess his sense of humor is really imbedded in there.

"Yeah, isn't this cliche?" I said sarcastically. 

" I guess so. Nobody really goes to the library anymore so it's a good study spot. C'mon." I followed him into the library and we sat at a table by the window. It was completely empty. Not a soul was in there. It's almost like I could see the dust floating because of the amount of neglect that was in this library. Even the lights were off. 

"I never got your name." He set his backpack down.

"Charlotte." I said as we sat down. I pulled down my sleeves and was cautious that they stayed pulled down. 

"They don't have the AC on in here, you sure you're gonna be comfortable wearing that sweater?" Victor asked as he got out his pencil and a notebook. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I attempted to smile. 

Victor's eyes were blue. He was the first organized guy I met. He liked to look outside. His eyebrows furrowed when he wrote, when he was in deep concentration. His teeth were a little crooked. He had the widest smile I've ever seen on a man, something that was like the joker. His laugh was like a giggle. He was also the palest guy I've ever met. He teased me about having red hair, even though it was more auburn than ginger, I would say. He didn't care. 

He kinda had more life in him than Tate did. He seemed more alive. 

Victor gave me his number, and I quickly texted him saying "Your local loser, Charlotte". He texted back saying "Victor, the guy everyone thinks is a scum of the earth." We got along pretty well. 

"Do you know Tate Langdon?" I asked Victor. I could tell he got uncomfortable because his face got extremely serious. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. His mouth did not curl into even the slightest smirk. 

"No. Why?" He asked. His voice got authoritative. 

"Just wondering. That's the same reaction I got from everybody else, for some reason. I just didn't know if you knew him or not. He doesn't go here anymore. I guess he got kicked out." 

"Yeah...something like that." He   
said. "Tate was a...rebellious one."

"I'm rebellious too. Is there a problem with that?" 

"No. I'm rebellious. Everybody is at some point. It's just that no one could beat Tate when it came to rebellion."

"Really?" I got interested. "Like what did he do that was so bad, though? Did he put up a poster that said 'Bong Hits 4 Jesus' or something?" 

"No." Victor looked down and smiled. He then bit his lip and looked out the window, like he was trying extremely hard not to tell me, or like he was holding something back. I heard him sniffle, I think. He quickly got his notebook and put everything in his backpack. 

"Where are you going?" I asked. Right now, Victor was my only friend. At least one that goes to my school. At least one besides Tate. 

"I gotta go. See You." He quickly walked out the door. 

Tate was waiting for me, on my bed, when I walked in my bedroom when I got home from school. He didn't look happy. He looked irritated about something. 

"Why did you even go to school? There's no point." He played with his sweater sleeve.

"Why did you get kicked out?" I asked him.

"Why did you get another guy's number?" My heart dropped in it's stomach. How did he know about Victor? Was he at the school watching or did he look through my phone? 

"You answer first..." I nervously responded. 

"I can't tell you that, you know that Charlotte. Because you'll never see me the same way again and you'll tell me that I'm a bad person when I'm not a bad person. Do you understand?" He grabbed my arm. "I'm a good - " He started to raise his voice but quickly stopped himself. "I'm a good person. I would never do anything to hurt you. I care more about you than I have cared about anything. You're the only thing I look forward to. You're the light at the end of my tunnel." 

"Then I guess I can't tell you about my friend. Which I don't understand why you have a problem with him. He's just a friend." I took my books out of my backpack to do my homework.

"He's a dickhead!" He yelled.

"You don't even fucking know him, Tate! And for the last time, he's just a friend."

Tate got up and started pacing around the room. "You don't get it, do you? I'm only trying to protect you. I'm trying to save you the hurt that causes me to do things. Things you're not ready to hear yet." He smirked. 

"I'm fully capable of knowing if someone will hurt me or not, just please have some trust in me?" I yelled at him and went downstairs. 

"JUST KNOW THAT I FUCKING WARNED YOU!" I heard Tate scream from upstairs.


	7. Chapter 6

Autumn is my favorite time of year. The solstice happens, so I can see the last hours of dusk before it greets dawn. The full moon is out, and you can see all of the stars, stars from millions of years ago. Sometimes I wish I was a star, so I could just watch people make the same mistakes over and over again from the sidelines. The fragrance of the fallen leaves. The colors of the trees. No one looks at you weird for always wearing long sleeves. Autumn is the season when a lot of people fall in love. 

But this beautiful house, not a home, could never greet autumn. It was cursed by California, to always be warm, sunny, and love never works out. The holidays come and go, but the season stays the same. It's almost like summer posing to be autumn, and we are just supposed to be oblivious. 

When I woke up, Tate wasn't there. My parent's screams were almost making the walls shake, it seems. 

I walked in on them fighting, to just see them both looking at me with wide eyes and speechlessness. 

"What's going on?" I asked, bewildered.

"Nothing, Charlotte." My dad said, stressed.

"Oh, so we can talk all we want about her once she leaves, is that how this works, now?" Mom yelled, frustrated.

"Can someone tell me what's happening before I completely lose my shit?" I yelled even louder, confused. 

"The boy. You can't see him anymore." Dad said.

"No, Dad, you can't do that. He's my only friend here." How did he even know Tate? Tate never talked about even meeting my parents. Or did he somehow know about Victor?

"Charlotte, I wouldn't be a good father if I didn't keep you away from people like him. He's dangerous, and I won't allow it. You don't know anything about him."

That was when the doorbell rang. I looked outside to see Victor standing patiently by the door. I hurried and opened it. 

"Victor, now really isn't a good time. Maybe we can hang out later tonight or go to the library for study hall again -"

"We are never going back to that library again. I'm sorry I ever brought you there. You don't need that kind of environment." He looked to the ground, then back up at me, with a deep breath and a smolder. He had deep green eyes. 

"Who is this guy?" My dad quickly went to the door and took a frightened look at Victor. 

"Dad, this is Victor. He's just this friend at school, don't worry." 

Uninterested, he walked away. 

"So... how would you want to go with me to this nice little diner tonight? If you're feeling up to it? I know there's been a lot going on, with getting settled in and stuff..."

"Um..." I trailed off, looking and seeing if my parents, or, in the worst case, Tate, was anywhere around. But, they weren't. So I told him that I would love to. 

"Great, see you at...how about six?"

"Sounds great. I'll just tell my parents that I'm gonna be at the library to study."

After he left, I went upstairs to listen to some music and read. Victor was a really good person to talk to. He helped my anxiety not show as much. He had an extravagant personality. He had a tattoo no one knew about. I don't know a lot about his past, but that's what made him so interesting. He had a dark sense of humor, and sometimes took it too far. He always gave me this stare that made me feel some sort of way. The way he talked was always so serious, but he would say the funniest things. I didn't understand why he was the most troubled student known at Westfield. I'll probably never understand. 

I didn't know where Tate had been recently. But I found out later when I went upstairs to grab my purse, after yelling to my parents that I was headed to the library. Victor was here. 

"Why are you always in my room?" I asked, when I saw Tate. 

"Why are you going to that library? It's dangerous... I don't want you to go there."

"Are you seriously telling me what to do right now? I thought you left forever, after the fight we had..."

"No. People fight, but people like us love harder. I thought you knew that. I thought you were strong like that."

"Why don't you want me to go to the library? And how is it dangerous?" I was getting angry. Tate was being so fickle, for leaving me hanging like that. 

"Because... stuff went down there. Stuff you don't need to know about."

"Well then quit bringing it up. I'm still going. If you're not going to tell me what happened, then it wasn't such a big deal to begin with. You're blowing this out of proportion. You're being really immature right now, Tate. I really hope this isn't how you are most of the time and I'm just now finding out." I grabbed my purse and ran out, thinking he wouldn't follow me. 

But, he did. 

"Charlotte! CHARLOTTE!" He screamed across the house, as I ran out as fast as I could. I wondered how my parents could never hear his screams, or if they just didn't care. "I'm trying to protect you. You are the love of my life. There's bad things that happened there!"

"Quit feeding me that romanticist bullshit!" I slammed the door in his face. 

"Charlotte, come back!" He wailed behind the door. 

I looked out to see that Victor had drove off. He thought that I stood him up. I started crying, while trying to find the nearest diner by walking alone in the streets. Mascara streaming, worn out converse, pit in my stomach, and no one by my side, I admit, that I have never felt so scared in my life. 

Eventually, I gave up, thinking that Victor had given up on me. It was my fault, I should have called things off with Tate from the start. 

I went home, and Tate was still there, waiting on my front porch. All it took was me to see him, sitting there, holding a red rose, broken and defeated. Tears were streaming from his lifeless eyes. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days. I really was harsh on him, wasn't I? I felt so bad. Fuck Victor. I loved Tate. Tate would never blow me off. He would have never hurt me like that. He's even declared that, something Victor never did. 

"Tate?" I asked, tears already forming in my eyes, as it grew into my sobbing. "I'm sorry. For everything. I should have never did that." I ran to him as we shared a tight embrace on my front lawn. The moon was so bright and the aroma of nighttime was in the California air. 

"I'm sorry, too. It's just that I love you, Charlotte. And I want to protect you from things and people that might hurt you." He kissed my forehead, still crying, but trying to compose himself. 

"My parents want me away from you, for some reason. I didn't even know that they knew about you. What are we gonna do?"

"I'm not gonna let that happen."

"How? What are you gonna do?"

"Whatever it takes."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is alwayslimerent! You guys May know me as xxwolfgirl11xx on wattpad. I'm transferring my stories onto here to broaden the sources for my writings. Enjoy!


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